


a long way from the playground

by bethaboo



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angst, Blowjobs, Coming Out, Fluff, M/M, Non AU, lots of smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 08:25:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3603183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethaboo/pseuds/bethaboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When it comes time for Harry and Louis to take the final step in revealing their long-time love, Harry thinks he's ready. He's been ready for four long years. He's packed his anchor shirt, Louis' map t-shirt, the paprazzi have been notified and all the seeding has been done. They're ready to take their first public steps into the world as a couple.</p><p>But are they really?</p><p>A fic set during the Doncaster Rovers charity game where Louis plays footie, Harry is his loyal cheerleader, and the rest of the boys are there in case anyone gets cold feet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a long way from the playground

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Goddess of Night Eternal Faith (Sinner_ofLA)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinner_ofLA/gifts).



> I feel like I should apologize. I usually follow prompts better than this. But well, this got away from me a little. It does feature Louis as a footie player (albeit a temporary one), Harry as his most supportive cheerleader and a charity football match. However, there are no kids. And it's actually not an AU. Whoops.
> 
> Hope you like it anyway!
> 
> Title from 1D's "18" (thank you Ed Sheeran for destroying my life)

“What about this one?” Harry examined his reflection in the full length mirror at the back of their walk-in closet, gazing critically at the brightly patterned silk covering (okay, _mostly_ covering) his torso.

 

No answer. Harry huffed in annoyance. What was the point of trying on all these clothes if he didn’t have Louis’ full attention while he was doing it?

 

“Lou?”

 

Still nothing.

 

Harry turned and found Louis still on the bed, laid out only in a loose t-shirt, probably one of Harry’s, and his pants, but he’d picked up his phone from the nightstand and was absently scrolling through something on the screen.

 

Harry cleared his throat and Louis’ bright blue gaze shot up to meet his. “Sunshine, that’s the tenth shirt or some odd you’ve tried on. It’s _fine_.”

 

“This is important,” Harry insisted, aware of just how stubborn he sounded. “I want the pictures to be perfect.”

 

“They will be,” Louis soothed crawling off the bed, the t-shirt dipping off one shoulder, exposing his collarbones and the tips of his tattoo. He wrapped his arms tightly around Harry, face nuzzling Harry’s back. “I promise.”

 

“What are you going to wear?” Harry asked. “Maybe we should coordinate.”

 

Louis chuckled into the folds of Harry’s silk shirt. “Darling, no.”

 

Harry couldn’t help the little pout. “I want everyone to know we’re together.” And that really was the crux of it; if he could have dressed in a t-shirt that proclaimed he was “Property of Louis Tomlinson,” he might have. Even better, Harry thought, he’d dress Louis in a t-shirt that read the opposite: “Boyfriend/Fiancé/Husband of Harry Styles.”

 

“Lots of people already know,” Louis pointed out matter-of-factly. “And everyone who doesn’t will soon enough.”

 

Harry sighed and leaned back against Louis. “I love you,” he exhaled with a deep sigh. “So much.”

 

Louis shifted to his tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to Harry’s lips. “Love you too, sunshine. Now stop worrying so much. We’ve got to pack.” As if he wasn’t going to go right back to bed and his phone.

 

Harry frowned and turned his attention back to the rack of shirts Caroline had shipped him a few weeks ago. “Possibilities for Photo of the Year?” she’d added cheekily in an enclosed note.

 

As if there wasn’t already pressure enough.

 

He wasn’t nervous. Not exactly. They’d been talking about _trying_ to do this and _actually_ doing this for so long that it felt sometimes as if he’d go crazy if he couldn’t stop lying.

 

But Louis didn’t go back to the bed. He stayed in the closet, letting go of Harry, and reaching for the rack of shirts, riffling through the whole lot before he stopped on the last one. He laughed, his voice light but piercingly loud. Like always, Harry thought with affection brimming out of him.

 

“Really? This wasn’t _the one_ like, the first time you clapped eyes on it?” Louis teased, holding out the navy blue silk in one hand, eyes sparkling as he gazed at Harry.

 

Harry blushed. “Don’t you think it’s a bit, I don’t know, _obvious_?”

 

Louis glanced down again at the dark fabric, dotted in lighter blue anchors, and straight up smirked. “Not even slightly.”

 

“Then it’s decided,” Harry said. In retrospect, he didn’t even know _why_ he’d been afraid to pick this particular shirt, obvious or not. The cat was practically out of the bag as it was. The whole _point_ of the photographs they were taking was to show he and Louis spent time together outside of work commitments. If Harry couldn’t take that opportunity to call attention to the _many_ couples tattoos they shared, then he didn’t know if he _ever_ could.

 

“Wait til you see what I’ve picked,” Louis said slyly, and Harry held his breath almost subconsciously. When Louis got that beautifully mischievous gleam in his eyes, it meant _anything_ could happen, and usually what did happen was fairly glorious for Harry.

 

And the rest of the world too, sometimes, but _always_ for Harry.

 

“Can I see?” Harry asked breathlessly. It wasn’t just the fashion possibilities that held him in thrall, it was the possibility that Louis might shed what little he was wearing. It didn’t matter that Harry was lucky enough to see his Louis naked practically every day. His curves never failed to entrance Harry, and from the way Louis was already wriggling, the stretched out neck of the t-shirt slipping even further down his collarbones, Harry was already feeling a bit hungry. Like he might like a snack.

 

A caramel-colored, curvy snack. A snack that so happened to be named Louis.

 

Louis was sorting through one of the drawers lining the walls of the closet—okay, Harry amended, more like he was completely destroying any possible order and neatness while he searched for what he was looking for—and finally emerged with a triumphant yell.

 

“This,” he said excitedly, holding the shirt up so Harry could see it properly.

 

“You’re going to wear a shirt. With a map on it.” Harry shouldn’t have even been surprised.

 

“Don’t you remember this one?” Louis asked with a pout that was far cuter than he probably realized.

 

Harry tried not to give it away, but it was a given fact that he had the most transparent face when it came to the man he loved.

 

“Oh wait,” Louis said with a sudden frown. “I don’t think you were actually with me that day. Maybe it was El. Some music festival. Anyway, the fans love this shirt. They think it’s the start of our nautical obsession.” He grinned over at Harry. The truth was, their nautical obsession went a bit deeper than just a random t-shirt Louis had worn a few years ago.

 

“Oh.” Harry tried to make it sound casual and normal, as if Louis’ fake ex-girlfriend was just a normal, routine part of life. But the truth was, as technically innocent as she was, to Harry she’d still represented everything about their closeting that he hated and resented. A living breathing example of what they’d spent four years fighting against.

 

He didn’t quite manage the right tone, it still came out weird, so Harry turned back to the rack, flipping absently through the shirts, as if his absorption in wardrobe choice was a good distraction for the sudden tenseness that had grown in the closet.

 

It wasn’t. Louis was never happier than in the same pair of tight jeggings and one of Harry’s gigantic t-shirts. He could care less about the latest Marc Jacobs line or the Saint Laurent boots that Harry had just been sent. God knew Harry had tried to lure him to the dark side enough.

 

“Haz.” Louis’ voice was sweet and a lot more convincing than Harry wished it was. It was difficult to keep a mad going when Louis decided to go all sugar soft on him.

 

“I know, I know,” Harry grumped. “It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t your fault. It’s nobody’s fault. All that means is that there’s nobody I can be mad at.”

 

Louis giggled and reached for him, all grabby hands and tickling fingers. But Harry was bigger and stronger, to Louis’ eternal dismay, and evaded capture fairly easily. “Kittens don’t get mad,” Louis argued.

 

Harry picked, practically at random, a few additional shirts and after folding them carefully, set them into the suitcase he’d set out, along with the anchor shirt and Louis’ map t-shirt (because if he didn’t pack it now, no doubt it would get completely lost in the chaos of Louis trying to pack his own bag ten minutes before they were scheduled to leave). “Good thing I’m not a kitten then,” he grumped.

 

“Kitten Hazza!” Louis screeched. Harry didn’t flinch. After five years of Louis’ screeching (coupled with the seething mass of screaming girls that seemed to follow them _everywhere_ ), Harry was pretty immune to most loud noises.

 

Harry turned from his suitcase and despite that he’d probably pay for it later, grabbed a twitching Louis and pretty easily swung him over his shoulder. Feet cartwheeling and arms flying, Louis tried to get away but Harry had a good grip and over the years, he’d also learned the best way to get Louis calm and pliant.

 

Besides, Harry thought with a bit of a smirk, he _was_ kind of hungry.

 

It was definitely time for a Louis-sized snack.

 

“Put me down right the fuck now, Harold,” Louis was ordering imperially, as if he was in any kind of position to give orders—and like he didn’t know what was about to happen and wasn’t just as eager as Harry from the way he was squirming insistently against Harry’s shoulder.

 

Harry deposited him on the bed with a dramatic flourish and Louis crawled backwards towards the headboard with so much grace and agility that Harry was a little jealous. If he tried to move that way, he’d probably get his limbs tangled.

 

But Louis did it naturally and carelessly, as if he never had to worry about tripping over his own feet. Which he didn’t, really.

 

Louis finally propped himself up against the pillows and sniffing in pseudo-disgust, shot Harry another rather imperious look. “Come here,” Louis ordered.

 

Harry only managed to contain his smirk because he took the time to strip off his t-shirt and let his joggers fall on the ground and Louis was probably so distracted by his nudity that he didn’t have a second to glance at his face.

 

Harry carefully crawled towards Louis on the bed, blood already fizzing with arousal and his cock thickening against his thigh. Louis ordering him around always got him hot, but what always got him the hottest was pretending like this hadn’t been his idea all along and Louis wasn’t playing right into his hands.

 

Louis liked pretending he was eternally mysterious and spontaneous. The truth was, he was terribly, _terribly_ predictable and Harry loved every second of it.

 

When Harry was nearly to where he so desperately wanted to be—i.e. Louis’ cock, hard and prominent against the dark navy fabric of his pants—Louis held up a hand. “Stop,” he said and Harry nearly whimpered.

 

Louis rose to his knees and crawled to Harry, their lips meeting in the middle, as fiercely and passionately as their first kiss had been, so long ago. Harry broke apart first, mouthing “Love you,” against Louis’ lips as his hands trailed down Louis’ bare chest. It didn’t matter how much time they’d been together, Harry could never get enough of his boyfriend’s skin. So smooth and golden and perfect. He wanted to kiss every inch of it. _After_ he finally got his hands on his dick.

 

“Wanna blow you,” Louis mumbled then, and that was all it took for Harry’s mind to shift gears to imagining Louis, hot and heavy on his tongue, to the sleek heat of Louis’ mouth. And while he definitely loved the former—one of his favorite things to do, in fact—there was no way he would ever turn Louis down.

 

Louis made sure Harry was well-settled against the fluffy mound of pillows and only then crawled between his legs, his compact, curvy body moving so elegantly that Harry felt sweat begin to gather on his temples. He could just make out the glorious curve of Louis’ bum from his position, and even as Louis began to teasingly slide his pants down his legs, Harry couldn’t tear his eyes away.

 

But then Harry felt Louis’ hot breath on his dick, and his gaze shifted lower.

 

Harry was perfectly aware of how well the entire world probably thought he sucked dick. He certainly wasn’t a slouch in that department, but well, Louis was an entirely different story.

 

Louis’ blowjobs were works of art—unbearable teasing and hot, wet heat and _fuck_ , the way he looked when he gave them, all hollowed cheeks and chiseled features and his watery blue eyes latched onto Harry’s face.

 

Sometimes Harry thought he might come just from watching Louis, nevermind what he was actually doing to his dick.

 

And he was doing it now, and doing it beautifully, Harry thought in a daze, as Louis swallowed his cock, mouth working smoothly lower and lower, tongue swiping along the underside, right where Harry was the most sensitive.

 

He could only watch for so long—it was overwhelming in the very best way to enjoy the bone-melting pleasure of Louis’ mouth along with the absolutely incredible visual that he presented. Harry was only human and he wanted to last at least a little longer than he did at sixteen and Louis had first gotten his mouth on his cock.

 

So Harry squeezed his eyes shut and focused only on the insanely wonderful suction of Louis’ mouth, the flick of his tongue against the head, eagerly swiping up as much of the precome as he could, the subtle twist of his hand against the base of his dick, the fluttering of Louis’ throat as he took Harry deep.

 

Like all of Louis’ blowjobs, it ended way too soon. Someday, Harry was going to tell his boyfriend that he needed to be worse at this so that Harry could last and enjoy his mouth longer. But far too soon, Harry felt the all-too-familiar twist of white hot pleasure at the base of his spine, growing more and more insistent and he reached for Louis’ head, giving his hair a shaky ruffle. Louis, completely and totally absorbed in Harry’s cock like the most wonderful boyfriend he was, only gave a tiny nod of acknowledgement and then a particularly insane twist of his cock that was all it took to have Harry spurting on his tongue.

 

It was impossible to get used to that kind of pleasure, Harry thought with a heavy, tired sigh, coming down off his orgasm high. Five years in and it still took him by surprise. As he came back to earth, he felt Louis’ small compact body crawl up Harry’s much longer, leaner one, and his face nuzzle into his neck.

 

He could also feel how hard Louis was, and the damp patch he’d made on his pants. As insanely pleasurable as Louis’ blowjobs were, he seemed to get off on them even more. When they’d first started fooling around in the X-Factor house, Louis had even come with Harry once or twice, just from the feel of Harry’s cock in his mouth and rubbing his own against the rough slide of the duvet fabric.

 

“Darling,” Harry croaked, as if he was the one who’d just had a cock down his throat. “Come ‘ere, baby.”

 

Louis didn’t say anything, just scrambled up further, so Harry could slide a hand down his pants. He was dripping at the tip, and so hard that if Harry hadn’t just come, he probably would have begged Louis to open him up and fuck him properly.

 

But Louis was too far gone for that, his little ah’s and gasps absorbed into Harry’s mouth as he kissed him deeply and rubbed over the head of his cock with a thumb, twisting his hand with just the right pressure to make Louis lose his mind.

 

It didn’t even take a minute for Louis to collapse ungainly on Harry, keening as he came into Harry’s hand.

 

They lay there silent for a few minutes. “That was so good,” Louis breathed into Harry’s skin, mouthing a little at one of the birds inscribed on his chest. _His_ bird, Harry thought a little smugly. “I can’t wait until everyone knows I do that to you all the time.”

 

Harry giggled. “Well, not _all_ the time,” he said teasingly. “I could stand to get it a little more.”

 

Louis smacked Harry’s side sharply. “I suck your dick plenty, thank you very much.”

 

“Just saying,” Harry added, dissolving into more giggles.

 

“Stop saying then,” Louis shot back, but there was only gooey fondness in his tone as he shifted for a more comfortable position on Harry’s chest.

 

Harry sighed and settled in for a post-orgasm cuddle. They’d gotten as much packing done as he’d really expected, anyway. Mostly because Louis liked to live on the edge and toss everything he wanted to bring into a suitcase about ten minutes after they were scheduled to leave.

 

But almost five years together had taught Harry a few important things. One of them was to learn to schedule their departure about half an hour before they actually needed to leave. So far, Louis had pretended not to realize this, and they were mostly on time now, and Louis no longer forgot half the stuff he’d meant to pack.

 

It was a good system, Harry thought sleepily. They’d worked out a few of those in the last five years, and their lives, despite being lived completely and totally out of the public eye, ran rather like a well-oiled machine.

 

But now, everything was about to change, and Harry couldn’t help but wonder if maybe this wonderful cocoon of love they’d created wouldn’t be the same if they let the world see it.

 

\--

 

They left only half an hour behind schedule, which in reality was only ten minutes late.

 

Louis had insisted on driving, and Harry knew him well enough not to argue or even point out that meant Alberto would have to find alternative transportation up to Doncaster for the game.

 

Knowing Louis, that could mean anything from he’d hired a private plane to shuttle their bodyguard up or he’d bought the man another car. Harry leaned his head back against the leather seat and tried not to think of what their credit card bill might look like next month.

 

After their nap, Louis had recovered his normally talkative and loud self, and they drove, he talked excitedly about the game, for which he was one of the Captains, and the Battle of the Bands show he was helping to judge and about a thousand other topics. Anything and everything that came to his mind, really, and Harry was right there, nodding along and listening and all the while, hoping and hoping that nothing would really change.

 

That they'd still get to do this. That coming out, something they’d both wanted for so long, wouldn’t be the one thing that destroyed everything they’d fought to build.

 

\--

 

“I don’t know why we couldn’t stay in a hotel,” Louis gripped as he dragged their suitcases up the staircase of his mum’s house. “It’s always so crazy here.”

 

“Because you love it here,” Harry reminded him a little reproachfully. “Especially if it’s crazy.”

 

Louis glanced back as he struggled with the suitcase and gave Harry a big grin. “That’s right.”

 

Harry watched carefully as Louis hefted the bags up the last flight of stairs but said nothing. Louis might be smaller physically than Harry, but he hated being reminded of that particular fact and Harry had learned to tread carefully when Louis had decided he could do something by himself.

 

“Jay said about twenty minutes before dinner was ready,” Harry said as they set up their bags on the far wall of Louis’ bedroom. It wasn’t his childhood room, but even after Jay had moved and married Dan, she’d had a room designated for Louis, though the number of nights he’d spent in it were pitifully small. Personally, Harry couldn’t have chosen the décor any better himself; it was a hundred shades of blue, from the very pale blue walls to the dark midnight blue of the duvet cover. Also, Harry was extremely grateful for the queen sized bed that Jay had so thoughtfully bought for them, knowing that if Louis was visiting, it was extremely likely that Harry would be with him.

 

“I’m worn out,” Louis said, collapsing on the bed as dramatically as possible. “Come here and suck me off.”

 

Harry just laughed. “Lou, your sisters are literally one room over.”

 

Louis smirked. “As if that’s ever stopped you, Mr. Exhibitionist.”

 

This was all too true. “I promised your sisters I would help make a poster with them. For your game tomorrow. Maybe after that?”

 

Louis groaned. “Nothing embarrassing please.”

 

“Louis,” Harry insisted, all doe-like innocence, “I already left my cheerleading costume at home. I can’t tone it down any more.”

 

“Yeah, well you’re wearing it when we get back home. A little celebration, that’s we’re gonna have when those pics hit.” Louis reached out and tugged Harry down on the bed with him, and they lay there together for a long moment, silence blooming between them.

 

Harry wondered if they should talk about the little pocket of fear he had over the publicity changing them, wondered if Louis had even realized how he felt about it. Or maybe they’d done enough talking about it over the years—talking and arguing and fighting and rationalizing—until they were blue in the face. Maybe it was time to stop talking and just let it happen.

 

“Lou,” a loud female voice screeched from downstairs. “Harry!”

 

“Shit,” Louis exhaled on a long breath.

 

Harry gripped his arm reflexively and didn’t release him even when Louis tugged. “Just a little bit longer,” Harry begged quietly. “I don’t want to let you go just yet.”

 

Louis leaned over and pressed a tender, very sweet kiss on Harry’s lips. “I’m not going anywhere, darling. I’ve told you, I’ll always be right here.”

 

\---

 

“I think the cheerleading costume would have been honestly less embarrassing,” Louis said critically, examining the neon pink poster coated in glitter that Harry had spent the last hour constructing with Daisy, Phoebe, Fizzy and Lottie.

 

“It’s not so bad,” Harry protested weakly. Because it was bad. Hilarious, yes. But definitely a bit more flamboyant than Louis usually allowed.

 

Or at least a bit more flamboyant than Louis had allowed since their management had cracked down on all his “too gay” mannerisms and tastes. Harry was lucky enough to still see some of them when it was just them, when they were in private, but Louis was very, very cautious about anything the public could see. Of course, considering what they were about to do, the sign seemed pretty insignificant. Truthfully, it would probably be lost in the shuffle of the paparazzi pics they were scheduled to take tomorrow.

 

“You wrote ‘Tommo, don’t be a tease,’” Louis said, giving Harry a crooked grin. “ _Really_?”

 

“I had to think of something quick,” Harry protested. “I didn’t have enough time to do my best work.”

 

“You certainly had enough time to cover it in rainbow glitter,” Louis said, clearly amused.

 

“There’s always time for rainbow glitter. Honestly, Lou,” Harry retorted. “Who do you think I am?”

 

Louis wrapped his arms around Harry, hugging him tight and close, burying his face in the warm crease between Harry’s arm and his side. He didn’t say anything, though and Harry wondered if maybe he’d been having similar thoughts to Harry’s own. Of course, knowing Louis and how he could sometimes get stuck in his own brain, unable to vocalize how he was feeling, it would be up to Harry to actually bring it up.

 

“I won’t bring it, not unless you’re okay with it,” Harry said softly. “The rainbow glitter might have been a bit much.”

 

“It’s perfect. Honest to god, I do love it,” Louis mumbled into Harry’s shirt. “It’s just . . . hard to adjust to it being okay for you to hold a sign covered in it, especially talking about me.”

 

There was so much that had been off limits for so long that Harry completed understood. They had stopped interacting publicly so long ago that it was hard to know how to even begin. And when Harry didn’t know what to do, he usually went with his gut.

 

In this case, his gut had screamed rainbow glitter. Not really a surprise.

 

“I love you,” Harry said, turning, his hands slipping under Louis’ chin and tilting his head up to give him a long, deep kiss. “So much.”

 

Louis’ beautiful eyes softened in the dim light of the bedroom. “I love you too.” He paused, a tiny smirk tilting his lips upwards. “I do believe I was promised something earlier, after you finished your sign.”

 

“Right, right,” Harry said distractedly as Louis’ hands stroked up under his shirt, feeling every inch of his skin, and giving his nipples a quick tweak. “What do you want, then?”  


Louis’ lips were hungry against the skin of his neck as he reached up to murmur into Harry’s ear. “Want you to fuck me so good, babe.”

 

Harry’s hands bit down on Louis’ hips at his words. He really wanted that. Wanted that more than words, really, but he knew that tomorrow was such an important day for Louis. And he knew, after nearly five years of being together, that sometimes the day after being fucked, Louis wasn’t always the most physically comfortable.

 

Louis needed to be in prime condition tomorrow. Harry groaned a little as Louis nipped at his ear. “Love,” Louis whined insistently, “want it so bad. Want _you_ so bad.”

 

It was difficult to resist Louis during the best of times, but right now, when what he wanted was also what _Harry_ desperately wanted, it was even tougher.

 

“We can’t, we can’t,” Harry panted. “We really can’t.” It was virtually impossible to untangle himself because Louis had practically climbed him like a tree, but he did steer them towards the bed, setting Louis gently on the edge.

 

“What?” Louis looked confused, which Harry understood. He tried to remember the last time he’d told Louis no and he couldn’t really. It wasn’t that he wasn’t _capable_ , more like he didn’t really _want_ to.

 

“Lou, you’ve got your game tomorrow. I don’t want to be the reason why you don’t play your best.” Harry tried to put it gently, but Louis’ face still morphed into a rather adorable pout.

 

“That’s not fair,” Louis finally said, frustration evident in every tense angle of his body.

 

Harry shrugged. “Anything else you want, love, you can have it. I promise.”

 

“Just a little,” Louis begged, melting against Harry as his small hands reached up to grasp Harry’s shoulders. He tried to tug him closer. “Be gentle. I just. . .” he took a little gasping breath, and Harry’s pulse stuttered at the desperation in his voice. “I’ve thought about it all day. I want you so much it feels like I can barely think.”

 

“Okay, okay,” Harry soothed. The last thing he wanted was to send Louis to bed unsatisfied. He’d never be able to sleep—from personal experience—and that would be just as bad as fucking him and leaving him sore. “I can always be gentle. You know that.”

 

Louis didn’t often let his walls fall completely down, even in private with just Harry, but the nearly shy, completely trusting look in his eyes as he gazed up at Harry was something that he wasn’t sure he’d forget in a long time.

 

The thing was, they weren’t ever _not_ gentle, more like they both enjoyed passionate sex that sometimes got a little rough. Harry liked it a bit more than Louis, but when Louis really wanted to be fucked, he could like it hard and fast and a little unforgiving.

 

Harry supposed that it was hardly a problem that five years on, they both still wanted each other so much sometimes they forgot all finesse.

 

But he had time to give Louis finesse now. He reached for the waistband of Louis’ jeans and gently unbuttoned and unzipped, pulling them down to his ankles. Next came his pants as his cock bobbed in the cooler air, flushed and bright pink, wet at the tip. Louis moaned a little, and shifted back on the bed.

 

Normally, Harry might have teased Louis a little—not _nearly_ as much as Louis might have teased him—but that desperate look in Louis’ eyes convinced it might not be the best idea. So leaning down, he brushed his lips over the head of his cock once, then twice, trying not to overwhelm Louis with the pleasure right away.

 

Louis took a deep, shuddering breath above him, and every muscle in his body seemed to melt into the bed. “That’s better, darling,” Harry murmured against his cock. “Doing so well for me.”

 

“More,” Louis demanded, in more of his normal tone of voice, and Harry couldn’t help but smile a little as he proceeded to do as requested, dipping his head, pushing more of Louis’ cock into his waiting mouth.

 

He was about halfway to working up to a really decent blowjob—or at least Harry thought so—when Louis’ whining started up again. “Don’t wanna come,” Louis panted. “Want more.”

 

Right. He’d promised Louis more. Harry lifted his head and blindly scrabbled backwards for his suitcase, searching through its contents as quickly as he could for the lube.

 

“Just a little,” he warned Louis again as he slicked up two fingers and gently circled Louis’ rim.

 

Louis moaned, throwing his head back and not exactly holding back. “Louis,” Harry hissed, “ _we are in your mum’s house. Keep it down, for the love of God.”_

Louis flushed sheepishly and turned his head to muffle his moans into the deep golden skin of his bicep. It was so distractingly hot that Harry nearly forgot what he was doing before Louis reminded him with an insistent shift of his hips.

 

Right. _Right_. Harry took a deep shuddering breath and slipped in a finger to the knuckle and gasped a little at how hot and tight Louis felt. How desperately he wanted to just say screw the potential consequences and slide his dick right in. It throbbed with how much he wanted to forget himself and fuck Louis until he was a shivering, moaning mess.

 

Instead, Harry refocused on how much he loved Louis and how good he wanted to make this for him and slid in another finger to join the first, scissoring Louis as gently as he could so there wouldn’t be any residual soreness in the morning.

 

Louis was writhing and gasping above him as Harry reached upwards, fingertips brushing his prostate. When he found it, he returned his attention back to Louis’ cock, which had morphed from its pretty pink state to a harsher, throbbing crimson, precome bubbling out the tip as Harry stimulated his prostate carefully but firmly.

 

“Harry,” Louis begged in a high, desperate voice. “Fuck, god, _please_.”

 

Louis didn’t beg often. He was rather more of the demanding sort, so Harry knew if he’d resorted to begging, he was pretty far gone. Shifting his free hand down, he pressed against his own bulge, painfully hard and throbbing in his pants, and let Louis’ dick slide back into his mouth, insistently rubbing his tongue just the way he knew Lou loved.

 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Louis babbled and Harry knew he was close, doubling his efforts and being rewarded a few seconds later with heavy spurts of Louis’ salty come. He swallowed, sucking the last bit out of the tip of Louis’ cock. Only after he was completely spent and boneless, did Harry slide his fingers gently out.

 

“Fuck,” Louis repeated again, his voice reverent. “That was fucking amazing, sunshine.”

 

Harry rubbed his hand against his throbbing dick again and tried to think of all the good reasons why he couldn’t fuck Louis. He was open and ready and waiting right in front of him and it would be so easy and so fucking good to just slide in. Louis might be oversensitive at first, but it would hardly be the first time, and Harry knew exactly what kind of recovery time Louis had. It might not be quite what it was when they first met and he was eighteen, but it was still really, really good considering how much sex they had.

 

“Harry. _Harry_.” Louis repeated insistently and Harry looked up in a daze, still trying to convince himself it would be perfectly alright to just hold Louis down and fuck him into the mattress.

 

“Darling, come here,” Louis ordered and this time, Harry listened, rising up to meet Louis’ lips with his own. Before Harry even had to ask, Louis had his hand in Harry’s pants, his small hand working quickly and firmly on his dick.

 

They kissed, Harry panting with each stroke into Louis’ open mouth, and he came embarrassingly fast into Louis’ fist. “So hot,” Harry hissed as Louis wrung the last bit of orgasm from him.

 

They cleaned up in silence, not talking even though Harry knew they probably _should_ talk about what exactly tomorrow would bring—even if they understood the end result, they hadn’t really discussed what it was going to mean for _them_.

 

The obvious things, they knew, of course. They’d be able to go out in public. They’d be able to look at each other on stage. They’d be able to share public pictures of each other. There wouldn’t be any more bullshit narratives of them taking separate flights or going to different places. There’d be no more hiding.

 

But the same as there’d be no more hiding, there’d also be exposure. What if what they’d spent all these years nurturing and growing in the careful, hidden dark couldn’t handle such a bright light?

 

Harry didn’t think anything could change the way he felt about Louis, but he’d learned enough about the world to understand that sometimes love wasn’t enough. Sometimes people loved each other and it still didn’t work out. Sometimes, though it was hard for him to even believe, people loved each other like he and Louis loved each other and it still didn’t work out.

 

He should say something. He knew he should. But Louis looked up at him from the bed, eyes tired and relaxed and Harry just didn’t have the heart to open up what could be a can of worms and what was most definitely just a touch of nerves for the big step they were planning to take.

 

It was nothing. It was most definitely nothing. He shouldn’t even be worrying.

 

“I love you,” Louis said quietly as he drifted off around Harry. “Thank you.”

 

Harry laid there in the quiet, listening to the little snuffley snores that Louis made and thought, _I love you too_.

 

\---

 

They went to the stadium separately. Alberto came earlier with a car and picked Louis up. Harry barely had a moment to kiss Louis goodbye in the chaos of the kitchen as so many Tomlinsons tried to get breakfast and then he was gone, taking with him the last opportunity they’d really have to talk before they took the pictures that would change everything.

 

Before he knew it, he was alone in the bedroom, carefully donning the anchor shirt and staring in the mirror hanging on the back of the door, fussing with his hair, wishing that he’d somehow made the time to talk to Louis.

 

Because instead of the tiny little tendril of worry that he’d had yesterday, there was now a larger vine and it seemed to be winding all through his insides. Even though he wasn’t even the one playing in the game, Harry suddenly felt so nervous he might throw up all the nice organic oatmeal Jay had made for breakfast.

 

Lottie stuck her bright blond head in the doorway, her blue eyes looking so much like Louis’ that Harry stared for a moment, wishing she was his brother instead. “Time to go, Harry,” she said.

 

They had a private box at the stadium that Louis had arranged and though it had seemed like a bit of a useless diva move at the time, Harry was surprised to see that between the Tomlinsons and the rest of the lads that had just driven up this morning, the box seemed plenty full.

 

Everyone was snacking on the fresh fruit platters and cheese trays that Harry had arranged to be delivered, chatting happily, excited about the game and what else was to come. Harry felt like he was the only one who was wound tighter than a string.

 

“You okay?” Liam dropped into the seat next to Harry. Harry had said he wanted to watch Louis warm up, but the truth was, he’d been blindly staring ahead at the field, eyes unseeing everything unfolding around him. He didn’t know how it had happened but somehow he’d ended up in a panic.

 

Why the _fuck_ hadn’t he just talked to Louis? There had been so much time. He could have made the time, even if they _hadn’t_ had so much of it. How could they have been talking about this very event for the last four years and _never_ talk about what this change could do to their relationship? Harry didn’t know but he had to wonder if it was because Louis was worried about the exact same thing.

 

“Not really,” Harry finally admitted.

 

“I didn’t think so,” Liam said wryly. “You look white as a ghost and you’ve totally ignored that huge bunch of bananas over there.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes. “It’s dumb. _I’m_ being dumb.”

 

“What you and Lou are doing, it’s a big thing. You’re allowed to be nervous. Or scared.”

 

“I’m not scared,” Harry retorted. He wasn’t, not exactly.

 

“You’re not scared of what?” Niall said, popping over the back of Liam’s chair.

 

Harry swallowed hard. “I’ve done the research. Almost no celebrity couple lasts longer than a few years. Everyone has good intentions and goes in thinking they’ll be the ones to last. But _no one does_. What if that’s me and Louis?”

 

Niall gaped at him. “You think you and Louis are going to break up? Be serious, mate. This is _you and Louis_ are talking about.” He gestured wildly and his accent grew noticeably thicker. “You’re like the poster child for healthy relationships. You make the rest of us look like utter shite.”

 

That was probably true.

 

“If you’d bring Melly around more often,” Harry tried to suggest because he _liked_ Melly and wasn’t going to lose a precious opportunity to give Niall advice, but Niall cut him right off. “This isn’t about me and Melly,” he insisted. “You and Louis are fucking soulmates. I refuse to accept anything else.”

 

“But what if we’re only so good because nobody knows about us?” Harry whined.

 

“That is an absolute fucking lie,” Zayn chimed in, leaning against Liam’s chair, ruffling Niall’s hair. “For something that’s supposedly a big secret, pretty much everyone knows.”

 

“That’s actually true,” Liam said thoughtfully. “You’re the worst kept secret in the world.”

 

“Are you actually trying to tell me that after all you’ve been through to be together, a few news articles and nosy gossips are going to ruin you and Lou?” Niall sounded incredulous. “I’m actually almost offended.”

 

Harry looked at him, absolutely mystified. “You’re offended?”

 

“On Louis’ behalf, of course,” Niall said hurriedly.

 

“Does Lou know about this?” Zayn asked softly. “He hasn’t said anything to me.”

 

Harry barely refrained from burying his head in his hands because then everyone would notice and he wasn’t prepared to discuss this with three nosy bandmates _and_ a whole troop of even nosier Tomlinsons.

 

“I should have talked to him. I didn’t. I guess I didn’t want to rock the boat.”

 

Niall burst into laughter. “A boat, _a boat_. He didn’t want to rock the boat!” he cackled.

 

Liam glared at him. “Nialler, you aren’t helping.”

 

“But he said a _boat_.” Niall kept laughing and Harry turned to Zayn, trying to ignore him. “I guess I should have, yeah?”

 

“You should have,” Zayn said with a small smile. “Louis loves you so much. The last thing he’d want is for you to worry.”

 

“You can’t prevent anything if you don’t talk about it,” Liam said and Harry couldn’t help but nod. It was solid advice. Advice he might have given someone in his own position. Advice he should have taken himself.

 

“You’ve got a few minutes after the game,” Zayn added. “Or you can make a few minutes. It’s important to tell him how you feel.”

 

“But there’s nothing he can really do about it. Nothing either of us can do,” Harry said, frustrated at how a nebulous feeling that couldn’t really be fixed could ruin one of the days they’d been looking forward to for years.

 

“I think you’ll feel better if you just get it off your chest,” Zayn said and Liam and Niall nodded right along with him. “Definitely,” Niall added. “I always feel better when I talk to Melly, even if it doesn’t get us anywhere.”

 

“Okay,” Harry said, still feeling a bit uncertain.

 

“Hey look, it’s Lou!” Niall exclaimed, his attention diverted to the field.

 

It shouldn’t have made Harry feel better. But even just seeing him on the field, beaming at the other players and clearly so happy to be there and to be doing what he loved, did help. Seeing someone he loved so happy should be a sign, Harry told himself. A sign they were doing the right thing, going the right direction.

 

\--

 

The game practically sped by. Harry thought Louis played absolutely brilliantly, acquitting himself very nobly on the field, and cheering on his teammates with equal enthusiasm when he was sitting on the bench.

 

He didn’t score a goal this game, which disappointed Harry a little, but he still had a very solid assist and Harry still hollered like crazy each time he re-entered the field, waving his sign til his arms ached.

 

He was also pretty sure that there would be about a thousand pictures of him going crazy plastered all over the internet, and definitely some of his rainbow glittered sign. By the time the game ended, Harry was fairly certain that once the pictures hit, there would be absolutely zero question that he and Louis were a couple.

 

Which, naturally, was the plan. Let speculation soar for a few days, and then follow it up with a quiet confirmation.

 

Harry checked his phone as he made his way to the players’ locker room and noticed he’d had several encouraging texts from Jeff and even one from Irving, congratulating him on a job well done and wish him luck on the job still to come.

 

“Harry!” Louis exclaimed as Harry walked into the locker room, throwing his arms around him, even though there were plenty of other people there. Harry was a little surprised. They hadn’t discussed PDA much either but Harry had assumed that Louis would want to keep some things private, especially in front of a whole bunch of ex-football players.

 

Yet another thing they hadn’t talked about. Harry felt his chest grow tight again as Louis drew him over to his locker and bag, talking excitedly about the goals his team had scored and how well they’d played. He definitely didn’t seem to be even the slightest bit nervous or hesitant as he finished dressing and then stood up to fix his fringe in the mirror. “Would’ve liked the quiff for these pics,” he grumbled as he fussed with it, flicking strands this way and that. “But it’s a bit hard to do like this.”

 

“You look gorgeous,” Harry soothed, though he felt like he was about to go out of his skin. Louis was worried about his hair while Harry was having a nervous breakdown over the potentially public nature of their relationship.

 

It was definitely time to say something.

 

Harry took a deep breath and screwed up his courage. “Lou,” he said hesitantly as Louis continued to primp in the mirror, “do you ever wonder if we’re making a mistake?”

 

That got Louis’ attention in a heartbeat. His eyes flicked up in surprise, meeting Harry’s in the mirror. He whipped around, shock etched on his delicate features. “Never, actually,” Louis said slowly. “Do you?”

 

Harry scuffed his boot on the concrete floor. “I worry that people knowing about us might change us. Sometimes.”

 

The tenseness in Louis’ face melted away. “Sunshine,” he said, reaching out for Harry and wrapping his arms firmly around Harry’s waist. “Everything might change but nothing will change. Does that make sense?”

 

Harry grimaced. “I _know_ that, like logically. But I’m still afraid. Celebrities break up so often. Like all the time. I don’t want to be that. Not us.”

 

“Then we won’t,” Louis said simply.

 

“It isn’t that easy,” Harry started to say, but Louis just touched his lips with his hand, effectively shushing his argument. “It’s _exactly_ that easy,” Louis said confidently. “I love you. You love me. I don’t plan on that _ever_ changing. Anything else, we can figure out as we go.”

 

“Everything else?” Harry asked.

 

“Everything else,” Louis confirmed. He reached over and kissed Harry firmly. With certainty. Right in the middle of the locker room, where anyone could see. Like he didn’t care if anybody saw.

 

And right then Harry realized. He _didn’t_ care if anybody saw. It wasn’t going to matter ever again if anybody saw.

 

“You ready?” Louis said, pulling back, with the brightest grin on his face, as if he’d just been lit from within.

 

“I’ve never been readier,” Harry said and to his own surprise, he meant it.

 

Louis reached out and took his hand, leading him to the tunnel that led to the exit of the stadium. Where they both knew several photographers were waiting—waiting to change their lives forever, Harry thought as they walked through the tunnel together.

 

When they reached the double doors, Louis looked up at him, blue eyes shining. “Let’s go,” he said and Harry squeezed his hand. “I love you,” he said as Louis pushed the door open.

 

The flash of lightbulbs was blinding, but Harry felt safer than he’d felt in years, with his compass guiding him. “I love you too,” Louis yelled recklessly, just in case anybody missed the memo.

 

Harry smiled. They definitely hadn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](http://bethaboolou.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [tumblr post for this story; reblog to save a life!](http://bethaboolou.tumblr.com/post/120581153060/a-long-way-from-the-playground-by-bethaboo-7-660)


End file.
